Chapter 11
I woke. Not in a funeral parlor—or underground in a casket. Praise be! In a huge surprise, I appeared to be lying in a bed, looking at a plastered ceiling that could have used more sanding before being painted.
“She’s awake!” The yell by Cedric had me turning my head to see the feline perched on a windowsill.
“What happened? Last thing I remember, the plane was going down.” I pushed myself into a seated position and regretted it considering my head spun.
“We didn’t crash.” An obvious remark given we lived.
“How? Did the pilots manage to land us?”
“Not exactly,” Cedric hedged.
I frowned as my fuzzy brain realized, “I’m not in a hospital.” Nor did I feel any pain, just some weakness in my limbs and fuzziness in my head.
“No point since what ails you requires rest, not medicine.”
“Meaning what?”
Before Cedric could give me another useless reply, Misha entered. “About time you woke, Beavertail.”
“Excuse me for being unconscious,” my sarcastic retort. “Must have whacked my head or something because I don’t remember anything after you shot the monster.”
“Nothing?” He arched a brow.
“Would I be asking if I did?” I grumbled.
“You landed the plane.” An answer that made no sense.
“Sure, I did.” My snorted reply.
“He’s telling the truth, as farfetched as it sounds,” Cedric confirmed. “You managed to tap into Anivivi’s magic.”
“Really?” Totally awesome. “How?”
“In an irresponsible fashion.” Misha leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms, expression sour.
I didn’t let his demeanor bring me down because, holy shit, I’d saved us! “Did I cushion our fall or something?”
“Not exactly, and rather than explain, it’s probably easiest if Misha shows you.” Cedric glanced at the grumpy elf, who sighed.
“Guess she’ll find out, seeing as how too many people managed to take videos of the incident.” Misha pulled out his phone, tapped it a few times, and then turned the screen to face me.
The shaky footage showed a sky clear of clouds with a smudge. The person recording zoomed in to show a plane, with smoke pouring from it, heading steeply for the ground.
The bloke capturing the moment, in a thick English accent, exclaimed, “It’s gonna crash.”
Indeed, it seemed as if the plane would kiss the ground nose first, except…
I blinked at the sudden appearance of big colorful wings on either side of the plane. Even more mind boggling, they flapped, up and down, pulling the craft out of its nosedive. The craft then slowly descended to the screaming incredulity of the person recording.
“Uh. Wow.” My mind whirred before I blurted out, “I gave the plane butterfly wings?”
“Yes.” Misha sounded peeved.
“How?” A dumb question that led to Misha barking, “Because you improperly used the magic stored inside you, Beavertail.”
“Why are you making it sound like a bad thing? We didn’t crash. We’re alive.”
“And the whole world saw what you did,” he accused.
“You’re exaggerating. So what if one guy recorded it? People will call it a fake.”
“The problem is, they’re not.” He waved his phone. “It’s gone viral.”
“Again, not sure why you’ve got your panties in a twist.”
“Because in doing so you revealed the spirit held within your body and put it in danger.”
“Danger how? No one but you and Cedric are aware I’m responsible.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“Actually, I can because, otherwise, I’d be strapped down in a secure lab being studied by scientists.” A logical conclusion, given how many sci-fi type movies I’d watched.
“The only reason none of us is in custody is because we landed in an area remote enough that I had time to remove us from the plane and relocate us far from the area before emergency crews arrived,” Misha snapped.
“Don’t you yell at me. Sounds like we both did what had to be done to protect our lives.”
Rather than reply, Misha stalked out of the room, and I huffed. “You’d think he’d be a little grateful.”
“He is, but at the same time, he’s worried because now the world is wondering how a plane grew butterfly wings.”
I snorted. “As if anyone believes that video is actually real. The internet is full of hoaxes.”
“Usually, yes, however you left behind evidence. While the magic I’m used to wielding is temporary or illusory in nature, yours isn’t. The wings you created remained and have caused quite the furor.”
“What? You’re fucking with me.”
“No, hence why Misha is extra concerned because science doesn’t have a way of explaining how that’s possible.”
“What’s the prevailing theory on what happened?”
“No official statement from British authorities, however, the theories range from it being a media stunt for a movie, a government experiment gone awry, or aliens.”
My lips quirked. “Technically, the magic I used didn’t originate on Earth.”
“Misha is worried someone will somehow connect the wings attached to the plane to his people.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Neither do I, but we shouldn’t simply dismiss his concerns. It’s possible there’s things he hasn’t told us that have him extra worried.”
“You think he’s keeping secrets.”
“I guarantee he is.” Cedric rolled his furry shoulders. “I would in his place.”
“Since we’re alone, let me ask, do you think he’ll hurt me?”
The cat took his time replying. “Currently, he appears to be focused on keeping you from harm. However, depending on circumstances, if he feels it is in the best interests of his people to eliminate you, he likely won’t hesitate.”
“Wouldn’t killing me mean the spirit is set loose?”
“Possibly.”
I frowned. “Wouldn’t a ghost with nuke-level magic roaming on its own be bad?”
“The problem is we don’t know for certain what would happen if you died. Would your death untether it, or would it remain trapped in your body until it can transfer to a new vessel? The latter seems more likely given the pernicae didn’t seem to care if it killed you or not.”
“You’re not being very reassuring,” I muttered.
“Just being honest.”
I glanced at the closed bedroom door. “Sounds as if I should watch myself around Misha in case he thinks I’m too much of a liability.”
“That would probably be wise.”
I swung my feet over the edge of the bed. “Where are we?”
“A cottage close to the Rudston Monolith. Misha raced us here after the crash because it’s supposedly a safe place.”
“Does that mean the monster can’t find us here?”
“Misha appears to believe so. He said something about the heavy convergence of lei lines in the area muddling magical emanations.”
“That creature hunting me is a problem,” I noted, testing my wellbeing by standing. I didn’t fall over, which I took as a good sign.
“It is, and it will continue coming for you.”
“Meaning we need to find a way to get rid of it permanently.” My lips pursed. “The magic inside me should be capable, right? And I’m obviously able to wield it.”
“Yes and yes, but…” Cedric canted his head. “You might need to restrict how much you use the next time.”
“Worried I’ll blow up everything in a kilometer radius when I take out the monster?”
“Yes, and you’ll have to temper how much you use so you don’t kill yourself in the process. You were barely breathing after you created the wings, and you’ve been unconscious for three days.”
My brows shot up to the moon. “Three days? No wonder I’m starving.” I then frowned. “If the magic comes from the spirit, why did I pass out?”
“Because, as its host, it relies on you to keep it fed. And before you ask, I don’t mean with food. It feeds on your body, your soul, everything that is you.”
“Meaning ask too much and I might burn up every resource that keeps me alive.” That wouldn’t be good.
“Exactly.”
“How do I learn to only use a bit?”
Cedric rolled his shoulders. “By doing smaller magic. The plane, for example, instead of having the power change the wings into a living construct, you could have encased us in a cushioning shield that would have allowed us to survive impact.”
“Didn’t even think of that,” I muttered before adding, “Wouldn’t a bubble for us mean the pilots would have died?”
“Likely.”
“Did everyone on board survive?” my next question.
“Yes.”
“Then my way was better because everyone walked away.”
Cedric sighed. “Yes, however, we now have to hope the repercussions were worth those two lives.”
I might not know who piloted the plane, but in my mind, they likely appreciated it, not to mention, could I have lived with their deaths on my conscience? After all, the pernicae only attacked because of me.
Misha returned, bearing a tray with toast and a bowl of something that steamed. Beans in a thick tomato sauce.
My hunger didn’t care I’d be farting up a storm later. I shoveled it, the toast, then the back bacon and eggs that Misha also brought.
Only once I’d curbed my ravenous need did I start questioning the elf. “So, Twinkle-toes, what’s the plan now to get to Russia? We stowing aboard another plane?”
He didn’t address my nickname for him to my annoyance. “A flight would have been quickest. However, all the UK airports have cancelled their flights while they try to figure out what happened to our plane. There is concern it might happen again.”
“Not sure why it’s such a big deal. So the plane grew wings. They kept it from crashing.” I downplayed my actions, but Misha scowled.
“It’s not just the wings they’re investigating but the many tears in the fuselage.”
“They know about the monster attack?”
“Hard to ignore, given the evidence. They are perturbed that their radars didn’t pick up the creature that left the damage.”
“How are you so well informed?”
“Because I have sources,” Misha’s mysterious reply.
“Okay, so we can’t fly. What’s our next best option?”
“We’ll need to traverse via ferry to the Netherlands and, from there, rent a car.”
“A car?” My nose wrinkled. “I thought Europe had the best train system in the world.”
“A train makes us an easy target.”
“And a car doesn’t?” I riposted.
“I’d rather drive.”
“Because you’re a control freak. Me, I like the idea of a sleeper cabin and a restaurant.”
Once more his expression pinched in annoyance. “This isn’t a holiday.”
“I’m aware, but that doesn’t mean you need to make our trip miserable.”
“We need to move quickly. We’ve already wasted enough time.”
“Considering a week ago you didn’t have a clue where the spirit was, I’m pretty sure you’re exaggerating.”
“The pernicae hunts you.”
“I’m aware, and I’m thinking it might be time I put a stop to it.”
His expression? Priceless. His incredulity? Expected, but annoying nonetheless.
“Stop it how?” he drawled. “Going to make it into a butterfly?”
I tapped my lower lip in thought. “You know, Twinkle Toes, that’s not a bad idea.”
That led to a stream of Russian, cursing if I was any judge. Misha also encroached into my personal space, leaning close to chastise.
“This is not a joke. The power inside you is not to be taken lightly.”
“Obviously, but at the same time, it chose me for a reason. Not the auctioneer or his granddaughter, nor Papillon. Me. So maybe you need to put a little trust—”
“No. You will refrain from using it,” he barked, inching so close his nose almost touched mine. His irate gaze bore a hole into my eyeballs. His moving lips hovered close enough I could feel the warmth of his breath.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I taunted, and then before he could utter another command I’d refuse, I kissed him.